Listen To Her Purr
by KayteeCUTLASS
Summary: While driving along a country road in the impala, Dean finds himself having some not so innocent thoughts brought on by thinking of the car. This is very NC17. REVIEW THIS ALREADY! pleasee?


**Title: **Listen To Her Purr.  
**Author:** Katie Louise Garner.  
**Fandom:** Supernatural.  
**Pairing:** Dean/Car:) Dean/Sam, Dean/OFC, Dean/OMC.  
**Rating:** So very NC-17.  
**Warnings:** Masturbation. Smut. Slash. Incest. Yeah, this is a dirty 'un.  
**Summary:** Dean's driving and gets turned on from thinking about the car and every memory he has in it. So, naturally, he stops on the side of the road to sort himself out.  
**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to CB/WB.  
**Notes:** Quite like this one, feedback:)

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Listen To Her Purr.**

Summer days like this one don't come round often in Kansas. Hot, dry and bright but a breeze that whips playfully at the trees. And Dean, as always, is making the most of things. Driving alone a dirt track in the middle of nowhere, stereo turned up loud and tapping his fingers against the door of the impala to the beat of the music. Miles and miles of road stretched out before him. The shiny black exterior of it catches the sun with elusive glimmers as it speeds along the track, disappearing every now and then into a cloud of dust it's kicked up.

Dean presses his foot down harder on the pedal, running his thumbs gently over the leather of the steering wheel. He's always loved this car, ever since his Dad gave her to him. He'd done nothing but respect her, keep her clean, fix her up. The engine growls as he slows down a little pull up at the side of the road. He takes a deep breath; country air and the smell of leather. Suprising, how old the Impala is and yet it still has that new car smell. And Dean knows just about everything that could happen in a car has happened in the impala. Every single dint, every rip in the leather, every stain holds a memory.

He'll always remember that night when he was fifteen, his girlfriend of the time visited him and they got locked out of the house. It was winter, the nights were getting a little colder so they'd snook into the impala to cuddle in the back seat. One thing lead to another and they ended up having sex. It was messy, sticky and he'd almost got concussion from the amount of times he hit his head on the roof, but it was his first and probably the best sex he'd ever had.

The trunk was where his Dad had hid his first ever gun on his thirteenth birthday. The drivers seat where he'd got drunk and, for the first time ever, gave head to a man. And on the hood, where he'd first given head to _Sam_.

_Damn_, that was good. The taste of him still lingered in his mouth, new and so wrong. That was all part of the excitement really, Sam had sat on the edge of the hood, Dean on his knees, mouthful of cock. Soft moans escaping from their mouths, eyes clenched tight shut and both with this big, black cloud of guilt hanging dangerously low over their heads. The only thing that kept them going was the want... the need for each other. The fact that it felt so right, tasted so good. When they peeled themselves away the only thing left was the sticky mark Sam's bare ass had left on the hood and the heavy scent of sex in the air.

Dean pulls the keys out of the ignition, the thought of Sam still clouding his mind, and clambers out of the impala. He stands, one hand on the door for a while, staring absently up at the sky.

_Then_ there was the first time he fucked Sam. Both squeezed uncomfortably in the passenger seat, Dean sat underneath sam, slick with sweat and precum, cock rammed as far up his ass as physically possible. He remembers the noises Sam made. Remembers the way Sam's naked skin felt against his. The look of his face when he was about to come. The way they both collapsed into a quivering mass and kissed until sunrise.

The thought of Sam's frame on his, the thought of his muscles contracting around Dean's cock, made Dean suddenly, painfully hard.

Before he even realises it, his fingers slide across the front of his jeans, tracing the outline of his hardening cock. Uncertainly he glances around, feeling like if he didn't jerk off _right now_ he'd die. The road is empty, both ways, for now but that's not stopping a car from coming along any minute. He leans his weight back against the impala, hiding himself as much as he can behind it. Biting his lip, his hand slips down his jeans and long fingers curl around his cock, eyes half closing with pleasure at the first touch. He tugs and squeezes at his cock, struggling to move his hand with the denim restricting him.

Reluctant but desperate, he fiddles with his fly and lets his jeans fall down over his bare ass and to drop to the floor with a thud. The soft breeze dances around his near-naked body, wide open space everywhere. Any normal person in any normal situation would feel as mortified as hell, self-conscious and paranoid. But this was no normal situation, it really couldn't wait. It was either this or spill in his pants like a horny teen and be ashamed for the rest of his life. And Dean... Dean was no _normal person_. Standing on an empty road against the impala, wind whipping up dust around him and his cock bobbing in front of his face; he knew he looked good. It was like some kind of hot gay porno he'd catch Sam watching at nights. And if someone drove by, so what. Maybe they'd get a little kick out of it, maybe they'd pull over and join in or just call the police. But no matter what, it sure as hell isn't gonna stop him.

His hand wraps tightly around his cock, stroking hard and slow, dragging whimpers from his mouth. His fist slips up and down the length of it, fingers slick with precum, pressing down against the rigid surface. Body trembling, he pushes out his hips and carefully the gentle, slow strokes that weren't quite enough begin to turn into him viciously fisting his stiff cock. He throws his head back, face contorting with pleasure and hand just a blur against the peach-coloured skin. He runs his other hand along the finish of the impala, following the curves of her, the feel of the cold, smooth metal moving under his palm. Sweat gathers on this small of his back, his shoulders rub uncomfortably against the car.

Moans fall desperately from his mouth as his hand works harder and faster along the length of his member. He knows that any minute now he's going to hit his climax, the thought of it stirs him to move faster. He screws his eyes tight as his fingers grab clumsily out for something to grip on. The icy metal, sliding under his fingers on one hand, a shocking contrast to the warm flesh under the other. He feels the familiar tingle in his balls, feels his body begin to tense. He sees his toes curl and his free hand tighten into a fist. He bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood. His whole body shudders, agonizing pleasure running through every vein, relief following, as cum spills out over the side of the road and his fist begins to slow to a halt.

He lays back against the side of the impala, a panting sweaty mess and turns to plant a small kiss of the roof. Half naked, in the haze of the midday sun, no one around he finds himself beaming.

Yeah, he sure loves his car.


End file.
